


On the Other Side of Your Door

by rarmaster



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Gen, REALISTIC SIBLING DYNAMICS AHOY, This is an AU, and honestly i can't believe i spent a whole day writing fic for this movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 08:52:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5579180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rarmaster/pseuds/rarmaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> - Knock knock. </i>
  <br/>
  <i> - Who's there? </i>
</p><p>A Frozen AU where everything is kind of the same except Anna and Elsa bond over knock-knock jokes and, well, actually talk to each other instead of having basically no contact for fifteen years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Other Side of Your Door

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty sure knock-knock jokes don't actually exist yet in the time period this movie is supposed to be set in, but who cares? I sure don't.

 

 _Knock, knock._  
Who’s there?  
Dozen.  
Dozen who?  
Dozen anybody want to let me in?

* * *

 

You don’t knock on her door because you expect her to answer, or to come out and actually play with you, or… anything, really. You’ve kind of given up on that, because, she hasn’t opened that door for you in, years, you think? It kind of sucks? You’re 8-years-old and really desperate to play with someone and Elsa’s the only one roughly your age, even if she’s three years older than you, because all the servants’ kids are gone and also, Elsa is your sister, and you’re tired of not seeing her, and…

Don’t get ahead of yourself. You aren’t here to ask her to play, because you’ve asked at least a bajillion times and she’s said no each of them and so you’re here to try something else.

Knock-knock joke book in hand, you knock.

“Hey Ellsaaa!” you call.

“Go away Anna, I don’t want to play!” is her response, like always. You press your lips together in a grumpy face for a moment, then take a deep breath. It’s okay. That wasn’t what you were here for. There’s no reason to be grumpy.

“I wasn’t gonna ask you that,” you tell her. “I have a joke for you!”

Elsa is silent for a long moment. You think you hear movement inside her room, maybe? Anyway, finally, she says, in a kind of bored tone: “Alright. What is it?”

You open your book and pick out a joke at random.

“Knock knock!” you say, knocking on the door for emphasis.

Elsa pauses for another long moment. “Who’s there…?”

“Who!”

“Who... who??”

 “Hey, wait a minute, is there an owl in there?”

You pretend to sound confused for maximum effect. Elsa takes a while to respond again—long enough that the proud grin on your face falters and you start to worry she hadn’t heard you, or probably just hadn’t liked it. Then she laughs.

It’s a quiet laugh, and you hardly hear it, but she laughs, and you beam.

“Um… that was pretty good, Anna,” Elsa says.

“Can I tell you another??”

“Sure.”

You knock on the door again. “Knock knock!”

“Who’s there?” Elsa answers, faster this time.

“Um…” It takes you a moment to look through the book for another good one, because, you’d forgotten to do that, oops. You’re afraid of taking too long, so you just read the first one off the next page. “Cow go?” you say, not quite certain about it.

“Cow go who?” Elsa replies, though.

You finish reading the joke from the book, and grin a little. You clear your throat and:

“No, silly! Cows go _moo_!!”

Elsa laughs more readily this time. You’re smiling from ear to ear now, because, it’s super-duper great to hear Elsa laugh again. Actually, it’s super-duper great to hear her do anything that isn’t just telling you to go away.

“One more?” you ask.

“Go for it!”

You don’t even look at the book, because you’ve saved the best, your favorite, for last.

“Knock knock!”

“Who’s there?”

“Banana.”

“Banana who?”

You knock again.

“Knock knock!”

Elsa hesitates. She sounds confused when she does repeat: “Who’s there?”

“Banana!” you chime.

“Banana _who_?”

Giggling to yourself, you knock.

“Knock knock!”

“Seriously, Anna, banana _who_?” Elsa asks, and she sounds kind of mad, so you decide to continue to the end of the joke already. She has to say ‘who’s there’ first, though, so…

“Knock knock,” you persist.

Elsa still sounds mad, but she does say: “Who’s there?”

“Orange!”

“Orange… Orange who?”

“Orange you glad I didn’t say banana?”

Elsa pauses, then laughs—giggles, really—a quiet, bewildered sound. It’s the prettiest sound you’ve heard in a while. You picture her hiding it behind her hand, like she used to do, and maybe she still does.

This was your best decision ever.

 

* * *

 

Here’s the thing, about Elsa:

She _does_ come and eat dinner with you and your parents most nights. She sits in her seat that’s further away from yours than you think it needs to be. She eats quickly. She excuses herself from the table the moment she’s done.

Here’s another thing, though, about Elsa:

Ever since you started telling her knock-knock jokes, a few a day, every day, she returns your smiles. She even responds to your funny faces sometimes, or at least, when Mom and Dad aren’t looking.

She’s still nervous. She still eats quickly and leaves the table as soon as possible. But she’s smiling at you. That’s a pretty good start, if you do say so yourself.

 

* * *

 

Unfortunately, there’s only one knock-knock joke book in the entire library. You’ve been purposefully rereading some of your favorites, or Elsa’s favorites, as you reach the end of it, because, you’re scared. This is the most Elsa has talked to you since you were really little and actually played together. What happens when you run out of jokes? What will you do, then?

“Knock knock,” you say, sitting on the floor outside of Elsa’s door.

“Who’s there?” she replies. You’d like think she’s sitting on the floor, on the other side, just like you are.

“Beets.”

“Beets who?”

“Beets me.”

Elsa laughs a little, but it sounds kind of forced. You don’t laugh at all.

“You already told me that one, Anna,” Elsa says.

You sigh, long and loud, leaning your head back against Elsa’s door.

“I know. I’m out of jokes.”

“Are you?” Elsa sounds surprised.

You nod, even if she can’t see it. “Yeah. I reached the end of this book, and it was the only one in the library. I checked _seven_ whole times.”

Elsa laughs, which makes you frown, because, it isn’t funny. You’re out of jokes. You’re out of excuses to come sit outside Elsa’s door and talk to her. And, worst of all, you can’t ask your mom _or_ your dad about getting another joke book because they’re worse than Elsa is about the two of you playing together??? This isn’t _really_ playing, but, it’s like they don’t understand that.

You sigh again—groan, really—sliding down until you’re basically on the floor.

“Hmm….” Elsa says, a long drawn-out sound. “Hang on, Anna, I think I have an idea. Wait right there.”

You wait, as patiently as you can, wondering what this idea of hers is. Does _she_ have a joke book hidden in her room, or…? You aren’t sure. You slide down the rest of the way, until all of you is on the floor. Then you hear Elsa’s footsteps coming back, followed by a sound that _has_ to be her sitting down on the other side of the door.

“I have this book,” she says, and it’s carefully, like she’s either really excited and trying not to sound that way, or like she’s scared. You aren’t sure. You hate to admit it, but you don’t remember everything about her, and this door between you isn’t helping. “It’s… it’s one of my favorite books. I could- I could read it to you?”

You sit up straight. That could be fun!

“What’s it about?” you ask.

“Um… it’s a surprise,” Elsa says.

You pout, disappointed that you don’t get to know _right now._ You blow a strand of hair out of your face. “Oookay,” you sigh.

You think you hear Elsa giggle.

“Alright,” she says. “Here- here we go. _Once upon a time…_ ”

 

* * *

 

You walk to Elsa’s room with your head high and your back straight, your lip trembling.

You like your relationship with Elsa. You really do. She reads you stories, and sometimes you read her stories, and sometimes there’s no stories and you just sit and talk, backs pressed to the door on either side, for hours and hours and hours. Sometimes you bring the joke book again, and you retell some of your favorites, or Elsa comes up with her own, and, that’s fun.

It really _is_ fun.

But, it’s still not fair.

It’s been nearly a year since you first knocked on her door with a knock-knock joke in mind, and she still hasn’t actually opened the door for you. You only see her at dinners, and she still only comes down _most_ nights, not all nights. The only other time you saw her this year was at that party your parents couldn’t get you and her out of like they normally would’ve.

You’re sick of it.

You want to see the excitement on her face when she reads her favorite parts of a book. You want to see her eyes shine as she giggles. She’s your sister, gosh darnit, _and you want to spend some time with her for real._

You’re at her door now. You bite your lip to keep it from trembling. You take a deep breath.

You’re doing this.

“Knock knock!” you say, sharply knocking twice on her door.

“Who’s there?” Elsa calls back, on cue, and she sounds so excited to hear what she has to think is gonna be a funny joke that you almost stop yourself from saying what you planned on saying. Almost. You may only be 8—no, wait, _9_ -years-old, now—but you know when things are absolutely ridiculous. _This_ is absolutely ridiculous.

“Canoe,” you say.

“Canoe who?”

You swallow hard. Your heart’s pounding.

“Canoe… Can you come out and play with me?”

The not-actually-a-joke is greeted with silence. You feel very cold, suddenly, like all the warmth was sucked out of the air. You bite your lip again, and pull your hand away from her door, holding it to your chest.

You just want to see your sister again.

“Wh- what?” Elsa asks, from the other side of the door.

You clear your throat.

You repeat yourself.

“Can you come out and play with me?”

“N- _no!_

There’s a pause there, and then Elsa continues, firmer:

 _“_ No! I- I don’t want to play with you, Anna! _Go away!!_ ”

Elsa’s voice trembles, and, you aren’t sure if it’s because she’s mad or because she’s about to cry, like you are. You don’t know her as well as you used to.

You take a very deep breath it, then let it out. It’s shaky. But you aren’t going to cry, here. Once you get to your room, yeah, but not here. Not here.

“ _Fine!”_ you shout at her.

You leave.

 

* * *

_(Here’s something you will never know:_

_When you were most of the way down the hall, she opened her door to see if you were really gone. )_

 

* * *

 

She skips dinner for the next three days. She won’t answer when you knock on her door at all, even when you start yelling her favorite jokes through the cracks on the second day. You know she’s in there. She’s never anywhere else.

You feel bad. You really do, but you feel like you were right, as well. You are 9-years-old, and you know when something is unfair. _This_ is unfair. The way Elsa shuts herself in her room is unfair, and the way your parents act like this is the best thing for her is also unfair and overall it really really sucks.

You just wanted to change it.

You didn’t want this.

On day four, you give up on the jokes. You just knock. Call her name. Sit outside for a few minutes, waiting, hoping, but knowing she’s not going to answer, at this point.

On days seven and eight, you knock and only knock, because you’re getting tired of this. You don’t know how you were patient enough, like, two years ago, to knock and wait every day when you had even _less_ promise she’d say something to you.

On day nine, you don’t come at all.

 

* * *

 

It’s been two weeks since the canoe joke.

You find yourself outside Elsa’s door again, because, as tired as you are of knocking and getting absolutely no acknowledgement, you also _really_ miss your sister. Doing nothing but swapping jokes and reading stories through a closed door was a lot better than not talking at all.

You knock on the door.

“Knock knock!” you say.

“Who’s there…?”

You jolt back away from the door.

“Um.” You aren’t sure what to say. You didn’t expect to get this far. “Uh… b-banana?”

It’s the first, and at the moment, the _only_ joke you can think of. You hear what you think is the typical exasperated sigh that this joke always gets from the other side of the door. But, maybe that was a laugh? A sob? It’s really hard to tell with a door in the way.

“Banana who?” Elsa asks, and there’s a catch in her voice.

You take a deep breath.

You knock again.

“Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“I’m… I’m sorry,” you say.

Elsa doesn’t respond right away, but you don’t blame her, because she probably didn’t expect you to say that. When she continues to not respond, you keep talking.

“I’m sorry for asking if you wanted to play the other day. I- I don’t get why you don’t wanna play with me anymore but I know you don’t and that’s… that’s okay, I guess. You don’t _have_ to play with me.” You steady yourself with hands on the door, and press your forehead against it. It’s cold, which is weird, but you don’t think much more about it. “But, Elsa, you’re my favoritest sister ever and I miss you so so so much and I’m _so tired_ of talking to you with this stupid door in the way!”

You kick it, for good measure.

You hear Elsa take a deep breath on the other side.

“Anna…” she says, and, she sounds like she’s crying. You’re sure of that. “I’m… I’m sorry, too. I really am. But I can’t open the door.”

You glare, at the door and the news more than Elsa.

“Why not?” you demand.

“Mom- Mom and Dad said I couldn’t tell you.”

“That’s dumb!”

“I know. I don’t like it either. But, I- I can’t, Anna. I’m sorry.”

“O _-kay…._ ”

You let out a long sigh. But, it’s hard to stay mad at Elsa. She sounds like she really wishes she could open the door. You just wish you knew what was so important about keeping it shut. Defeated, but glad you’re talking again, you turn and slump against the door, sliding down until you’re sitting on the ground.

“Hey, Anna?” Elsa calls, from the other side. “Knock knock.”

You frown, some, because you can never tell where Elsa’s going with knock-knock jokes. But, you answer anyway.

“Who’s there?”

“Canoe.”

You blink, then turn your head slightly towards the door, hopeful.

“Canoe… who?”

“Can you stay with me for a while?”

A smile tugs at your lips.

“Sure thing, Elsa!”

 

* * *

 

What you and Elsa have isn’t perfect.

But it’s a lot better than it could be.

 

* * *

 

_“Knock knock.”_

_“Who’s there?”_

_“Anita.”_

_“Anita who?”_

_“I need to tell you something.”_


End file.
